


Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [18]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluf, Getting Together, Nerd Jughead, Oblivious Betty, Oblivious Jughead, bughead - Freeform, meet cute, nerd betty, pining Jughead, pining betty, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 11:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15387360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: To ensure her sanity, all Betty has to do is come third in the yearly class ranking.She doesn't come third.She's fourth.And the person who stole her spot has the most ridiculous name.*reuploaded after accidental deletion*





	Don't Sweat the Small Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy sweethearts! And special thanks to DM68 who alerted me to the fact I'd accidentally deleted that in the first place! I am crushed to have lost your wonderful comments to it, but I am not the sort of person to delete work that people like so I am super sorry for the confusion! but my ao3 has been super weird lately, everytime i publish something it uploaded like 4 times so i have to delete three of them and must have accidentally deleted all of them on this story! 
> 
> you know I love you!

Betty was a positive person. 

She was all about inspirational posters, dream catchers, motivating fridge magnets, congratulatory stickers on her work binders and thumbs up keychains. Optimism was ingrained into every part of her, it was who she was, and she loved it. Every inch of her was imbued with simultaneous cheerings of: 'glass half full', 'god opens a window' and 'it takes less muscles to smile than frown'. It was how she chose to live her life, and she liked her life. One only needed to look at her to see that she was exactly what she was on the inside; on the outside too. Her golden hair, kept back in its neat, sweet ponytail, was the colour of the sun peaking out over the dawning horizon. Her blue eyes were the clear sky on the best summers day, and her creamy skin reminded everyone of their mothers pouring them fresh milk from the white jug onto their favourite cereal. She dressed in pastel colours always; proper and never too revealing, but complimentary all the same. Her make up style, similar to her sister's, was understated but fashionable. Perfect pink lips and satin rose blusher and the faintest shade of eyeshadow was the sprinkling of sugar on the beautiful cupcake that was Betty Cooper. 

Life wasn't  _perfect._ Her mother could be the cause of quite a lot of turmoil, but she knew that she was loved dearly. She stressed herself out a lot when it came to school work; she was after all, her own worst enemy (there was no poster for that on her bedroom walls), but she knew that life was good. She was pretty, in a 'girl next door' type of way, and worked hard to maintain her slim figure and clear skin. She was even a cheerleader, with a wonderfully supportive cluster of friends. Veronica Lodge, her best friend, was the fiercest and richest girl in Riverdale and had been Betty's best friend since she was a freshman. Veronica was dating Archie: Betty's neighbour and close friend, and the group was topped off by Cheryl. Cheryl Blossom had become an honorary member after her elder brother Jason had started flirting with Betty's elder sister; Polly, but she'd been welcomed with open arms. Betty thought that Cheryl might have been lonely before she had gotten close to them, because the red-head responded exceedingly well to Betty's unfailing kindness. 

She smiled at the thought of Cheryl's sly commentary today. Veronica and Archie were nearing their one-year anniversary and their lovey-dovey sweetness had ratcheted up to an almost unbearable level. The sun was creeping up the sky, leaving deep red footprints over the fading stars, as Betty stood in the kitchen; slicing peppers. It was just after seven am, and she was preparing her lunch of pasta and peppers. The pasta was done; already cooling on the counter, as she slid the peppers into the pan. The low-fat oil began crackling happily, and the smell of a dinner food so early in the morning was slightly sickening. She turned away from the stove to see Polly combing her hair in front of the mirror in the living room. They were dressed fairly similarly today; like most days. Betty was in her standard baby-pink jumper with a ruffled white fold down collar, and a slightly darker maroon a-line wrapped skirt. Her tights were a thick, wooly grey and went down into pink pumps. 

Polly had an over-sized pink jumper on, that went down to far below her hips and a pair of grey, skintight jeans. Her hair looked soft and appealing to the touch as it fell across her shoulders. Betty leaned across the counter, smiling. "Getting spruced up to see Jason?" 

Her sister gave her a warning glance in the mirror, before looking around to see if their mother was nearby. Upon discerning that the walls did not have secret Alice Cooper shaped ears, she mirrored Betty's posture excitedly. "Things have been getting really good between the two of us. I think he might ask me out soon." 

Her glee was intoxicating, and Betty joined her sister up on cloud nine. "He definitely will. I don't know why he hasn't already. Too nervous?" 

Polly's giggle was loud and delighted. Her blue eyes wide with joy. " _No!_ I'm sure he was just trying to..."

"Work up the nerve to ask out the woman of his dreams? I'm sure." Betty winked, whirling back to the stove and prodding a few of the more listless peppers with her wooden spoon. They jumped to attention under the heat. She liked Jason, just as she liked Cheryl. He was kind and popular and seemed as enamoured with Polly as Polly was with him. That always made for a good sign. But perhaps more important than all of that; their mother liked him. He'd passed the impossible test, and there was very little he wouldn't be able to do now. She sprinkled some salt over the peppers and turned down the heat, turning to fetch her tupperware container. As she loaded it with pasta, their mother entered. 

Like the other two Cooper girls she was wearing pink; this time in the form of an expensive looking blazer over a white blouse. "Good morning, girls," she greeted, as if she hadn't woken them both at six am with tea and a bowl of fruit with cream. She kissed Betty's cheek, wordlessly turning the heat off the peppers, and then stroking Polly's arm as she plucked her handbag off the sofa and began rifling through it. 

"Hey mom," they chimed in unison, as Polly stepped to the side so their mother could apply some more lipstick with the aid of the mirror. 

"Betty dear, class rankings for your year will be released at the end of the week, won't they?" She asked, smacking her lips together. Betty began loading the peppers onto the pasta and nodded; swallowing hard. 

"Yeah, mom." 

"I'm sure you know what I expect of you." 

Polly laughed. "Mom, Betty's one of the smartest girls in the year."

Alice didn't look particularly amused, and she stepped away from the mirror; heels clacking against the polished hardwood as she popped her lipstick back into her bag. "I don't care about  _girls,_ Betty. I want you to be the smartest regardless of gender. Men are idiots, I've said it before, and I'll say it again." 

"Talking me up, are you dear?" Hal murmured, shuffling into the living room. He was only half dressed, sleep written all over his face and Betty pecked a kiss to his cheek as Polly winked at him. He sat down with a world weary sigh at the kitchen table, and hunched over it; yawning. 

"No elbows on the table, Hal," Alice scolded lightly, immediately moving to make him some tea. "I was just telling Betty that it shouldn't matter if she's a girl or not. I want her to be the best. That way she'll get into the best college. Isn't that right, sweetheart?" 

Betty snapped the lid with a satisfying click onto the container, and went to place it into her pastel pink backpack. It slotted in neatly beside her flower-designed water bottle. She zipped it up without much fanfare and nodded absently. "You're right, mom." She said, hoping it would cover her bases. It was typically the response her mother liked best. And she wasn't wrong this time. 

"See, Hal? Elizabeth understands. Just make sure you're in the top three, sweetheart. That's all I want for you. That's not unreasonable, is it?" She leaned up to reach for a mug, and Hal, Betty and Polly all shot each other long-suffering glances. Alice turned to face them all again, cup in hand, and smiling. "Is it?" 

"Not at all," Betty grinned, sliding her backpack over her shoulders as Polly grabbed her satchel. 

"Heading in already?" Hal asked knowingly, eyes resolutely on the paper. 

"We just wanna be early," Polly managed, chewing on the inside of her mouth. "We want to get a head start on our work." 

"Since when is flirting work-" their father began, at the same time that Alice exclaimed;

"Wonderful! You girls have definitely got your priorities straight. You go on, and stay as long as you need! I'll make some chicken parm for dinner! Make me proud, darlings!" She set the tea before Hal as the girls hurried for the door. They could hear her continuing in a lower voice; "oh Hal, you could learn a lot from our girls, you know. They get all their brains from me." 

"Their modesty too," he responded, but Alice's reply was shut out with the door. 

It was cool outside, and a few of the birds were only just starting to wake up and start chirping, as they walked down the path. They lived on a beautiful street; most of the houses in Riverdale were beautiful. Wide roads with wide sidewalks; all green and lined with trees. Every home had a large front garden and back garden, surrounded in neatly painted white picket fences. The streets were framed with evergreen trees and even the storm drains lined with daisies. The streetlamps were off, and cast shadows of grey every few metres. Betty breathed in the fresh air and smiled. Polly was happily babbling beside her about Jason, the warmth of the sun hit their cheeks as it rose into the sky. It may have been a Monday, and Garfield may have hated it, but Betty was on top of the world. It was all about mindset after all. 

 

She managed to get some studying done in the morning; finding a quiet nook in the library and so by the time she and Veronica walked into AP English in the morning, she was completely ready for the pop quiz. She returned Veronica's grimace of pain as she sat at her desk, but it was purely for show, and she smiled widely at Miss Tracy as the paper was set before her. She liked taking tests, especially when she felt confident. The silence of the classroom where everyone was focused and only the occasion clatter of a pen to the ground or the turning of a page soothed her inexplicably. Unzipping her pencil case she removed her favourite pen that read  **with faith, you can write all your wrongs** and scrawled her name along the top. She could answer everything easily; they'd been studying  _The Tempest_ and she knew that a number of people in their class hadn't read the play. It was difficult, that much she understood, but reading the criticism that was in the library had helped tremendously.  _Is Miranda a passive pawn?_ question four said, and Betty found herself nodding in agreement as she moved her pen across the page with flourish. She was being used by her father to regain his position in the palace, she had met no other person her adult life; she wasn't at all capable of making decisions herself and when her father had thrust Ferdinand before her, really, she'd had no choice but to fall in love. 

She was so pleased with the way the test went, that as everyone was filing out, she lingered. Veronica raised a dark eyebrow quizzically, but Betty nodded at her; minute facial expressions telling her she'd see her at lunch. 

Miss Tracy looked up from her desk with a smile, and leaned back in her chair. "Hello, Betty. What can I do for you?" 

"It's about the class rankings due out at the end of the week," Betty began in a sweet voice, and Miss Tracy was nodding. Betty liked Miss Tracy. She was more perceptive that the other teachers, and understood Betty in a way that not many people did. "Yeah," she sighed, in response to her teacher's unasked question. "My mom's really...she just wants what's best for me. I was wondering if you know what I might expect?" 

Miss Tracy looked distinctly uncomfortable now, with a dash of pity added in. She took her glasses off her face, and pinched the bridge of her pointy nose. "I did try to help you, Betty, I went over some of your essays and tried to give you extra marks wherever I could, but it's still coming in at fourth." 

Her heart dropped with a solid thump. Right from her chest into the pit of her stomach. "Fourth?" She croaked out; staring at Miss Tracy but seeing nothing but her mother's face. "But...who..." 

"From what I saw, Dilton Doiley is at the top again, followed by Ethel Muggs..." Betty closed her eyes, bringing the heel of her palm up to her forehead as if that would ward away her migraine. Of course. Dilton was always at the top, much to her mother's chagrin, and Betty had come to expect it. Ethel Muggs too, that was obvious. She was the most studious person Betty had ever met and both Ethel's parents were teachers over at a private school. Betty normally pulled in at about third after them, second one year, when Ethel had fallen sick. "And Jughead Jones has nabbed third place from you, I'm afraid. Four marks, I think. So very close, I can write a letter to your mother. You shouldn't beat yourself up about this, Betty, at all. You're an exceptional student. One of my favourites."

Betty could barely hear the compliments as her brain tried to comprehend what was happening. Jughead Jones.  _Jughead Jones._ Jughead Jones as in the snarky, blue haired loner who offered nothing but scathing remarks to class debates and never had his homework. That Jughead Jones had pipped her to the post. And not by one or two marks, but by  _four._ Betty didn't think she'd ever seen him in the library. She didn't think she'd ever seen him actually hold a text book. "Jughead," she repeated aloud, voice thick with shock. "Jughead?" 

Miss Tracy nodded, eyes full of sympathy. "Yes, I'm afraid so." 

"But... _how?"_ She was really struggling to put it all together. To reconnect the image she had of Jughead. She barely knew him, though he'd been in her year since kindergarten. He wore what seemed to be only plaid, and ripped jeans, and never participated in gym. 

Miss Tracy was beginning to understand that coming fourth was not the only thing plaguing Betty, but rather  _who_ had beaten her there. After all, she was an exceptionally perceptive teacher. "He's a very good student, Miss Cooper. He's actually come just behind you ever year so far." 

Betty blinked in surprise.

Miss Tracy barrelled on, nodding. "He came third the year you came second, and fourth pretty much every year after. He's very talented. One of my other favourite students, so though I am sorry Betty, I know how your mother can be, I'm also very proud of Jughead. It's commendable, really. I know his father's very proud." 

"He's been just behind me every year?" She whispered, wiping the sweat from her brow. It made sense, she supposed. She never really paid any attention to the names that came after hers, that's not what mattered. "I didn't realise he was..." but  _why_ hadn't she? That's what was grating. Yes, his remarks were catching but they were often original and insightful. She'd never seen him get a bad grade back, and come to think of it, she could see him at school every day. He'd never skipped. He was in all her AP advanced classes and she knew he also wrote for the paper; just like her. It was a marvel that they'd never spoken. Of course, she wrote for the student living section, whereas he seemed hellbent to report on politics. Something Betty rather liked to keep her nose out of. "I didn't realise. I...well, good for him." She managed a peachy smile.

Miss Tracy nodded, clucking her tongue in sympathy. "The two of you have a lot in common, I'm surprised you're not closer." 

"It's a big school," Betty managed weakly, waving goodbye, and ducking out into the corridor. 

But unfortunately, speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

She found herself mere millimetres from a chest that smelt of soap and body spray. She looked up to see Jughead, frowning down at her. It struck her then, that she'd never really looked at him. He was handsome, in a wiry sort of way, and she could feel the tell-tale blush rising to her cheeks. "You okay?" He asked, peering around her and into the classroom. He wanted to talk to Miss Tracy, she could see. She nodded, managing a small smile. 

"Congratulations! On uh...the rankings. I know they're not out yet, but..." 

His frown lessened, and a small, embarrassed look replaced it. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, stepping away from her so she was graced with some air that didn't smell of him. "Oh right. Uh, yeah. Well done, too. We were...close." He wasn't looking at her. He seemed to be looking anywhere but her. Right, she remembered. A loner. 

"Yeah, but you really deserved it." 

"Thanks." 

"Well, I better go," she managed, smiling brightly at him. "Cheerleading practise." 

"Sure." He nodded, beckoning the space beside him with his hand so that she could go past. "Good taking to you." 

It was such a bewildering thing to say that she stared at him in shock. 

It made him frown hard, and he darted past her into the classroom. She heard him say, "hey, Miss T," and the fond reply of, "hey, Jug," before she forced herself towards the changing rooms. 

Suddenly it didn't feel as bad as it could have; being beaten by Jughead. Maybe it was the fact that she'd been inadvertently winning a competition with him for years that she hadn't even realised she was playing; but the sheepish look on his face; the colouring on his cheeks and the bashful glint in his eyes made her think of someone who didn't get enough credit. So she was disappointed yes, and fearful of whatever her mother might do, but as for sad? It was too overshadowed by the vicarious happiness she felt for Jughead. 

So she walked to cheerleading with a small skip in her step.

She was a positive person, after all. 

 

"Hey loser, can we have lunch outside? I might actually choke on my own vomit if I have to watch ape one and ape two go at it anymore today." 

"Well, hello to you too, Cheryl," Betty teased, sliding her books into her locker. She was still slightly overheated from practise; where Cheryl in all her fiery glory had decided not to talk to anyone aside from barking commands and insults when the pyramid swayed a little too much to be considered artful. They were still in their uniforms; high white turtlenecks underneath pleated blue dresses. 

Cheryl sighed, pulling her hair out of its bun so the red locks tumbled down around her waist; still perfectly moused and not at all frayed. "Hello, dearest cousin," she said faux-sweetly, as if it were an eternal hardship to put up with Betty's niceties, and she glanced inside her locker. "Ew. Who lives there? David D Burns?" 

The blonde arched an eyebrow in pleased surprise. 

"Don't look so surprised, plebe. I pay attention in psychology. This pretty head is not just to model this hair." 

"Well, Burns is actually just the-" Betty closed her mouth as Cheryl gave her a warning look and turned to look at her own locker consideringly. It was impeccably neat, she supposed. Her folders were all sorted by colour; darkest reds to lightest pinks, and were all equally uniform in height as they were of the same brand. There were no errant papers, because Betty filed everything into plastic wallets before putting them into her folders. Each folder was labelled with a gel pen that matched the plastic's colour and her spare pencil case and water bottle were tucked into the front beside her lunch. On the door of her locker was a pinned rose- perfectly perpendicular with the bottom, and a framed magnetic photo of herself and Polly from when they were young. Above that was a magnet that read  _believe in yourself._ Betty cocked her head. "What? It looks neat." 

"It looks like a psychopath uses this locker, Betty. Albeit a psychopath who really likes pink." 

Betty sighed, grabbing her lunch and her water bottle and closing her locker. "Sure, let's have lunch outside." 

"Fabulous." Cheryl beamed, and the two of them walked down the hallway. Students parted before them like the seas parted for Moses and Betty had to bite back her smile. The younger years were so intimidated by post-puberty girls, especially cheerleaders, and people in their own year just knew to give Cheryl a wide berth. Betty supposed they saw her as a little vindictive, but she knew the truth. Cheryl was a sweetheart who protected those who she cared about. She just needed someone to care about her too. They made a rather striking pair as they burst out into the quad, but Cheryl marched up to a table, hissed at the two boys there and sat down. 

Betty sat beside her, shooting apologetic glances to the guys who were scampering away, and opened her lunch, digging into her salad. "Oh by the way, Miss Tracy's probably going to give you a pop quiz tomorrow." 

Cheryl rolled her eyes, as she unrolled her sushi. "Excellent.  _The Tempest_ is the bane of my life. But if we're trading secrets; watch out for Harris tomorrow- apparently there's a math test coming up soon. I know you won't be able to do it as easily as I do," she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "But we all have our faults, Betty dear." 

She snorted, crunching into a pepper and making a pleased humming in the back of her throat at the taste. Just enough salt. Perhaps not as done as she'd like. A few extra seconds on the heat would have been more to her taste. 

"Speaking of IQ's..." the pale beauty rose her eyebrows expectantly, and Betty made a confused face. Cheryl sighed, sounding put out. "The class rankings? What's the buzz? Have you finally beaten out that disgrace-to-fashion Ethel? Or Dillnerd?"

"Other way," Betty sighed. "Down to fourth, now."

"Ooh. Who's the new nerd on the hill?"

"Jughead Jones?"

Cheryl cocked her head curiously, and Betty watched the contemplative expression pass her face. Finally her hazel eyes returned to her sushi, and she picked up a piece of salmon with deft fingers around the chopsticks, bringing it between her full red lips. "I can see that." She said, just before popping it into her mouth. Betty squinted curiously, reaching forward to nab a piece. Cheryl made everything look good. The red head offered her the small bowl of sauce, and Betty gratefully dipped her piece into it.

"How do you know Jughead?" She asked; chewing slowly.

The head vixen shrugged, taking a sip of her fruit water. "He's in my biology class. He's Dillnerd's partner. The only person Dill deems 'worthy' to work with. Plus he's stupidly smart and Mr Harver seems mad for him."

"If he's so good, how come I've never heard of him before now?"

"Maybe he keeps under the radar," Cheryl offered with a careless shrug. "It's the smarter thing to do. Avoid's being subjected to taunting. He could teach Ethel and Dilton a thing or two."

"So you _do_ know his real name," Betty teased, and Cheryl rolled her eyes hard, but nudged Betty's leg under the table with her trainer. 

 

Betty was delaying going home.

Their mother was extremely relaxed about curfews; trusting her daughters explicitly that if they weren't at home, they were at the school library; knuckling down and getting work done. Jason had in fact asked Polly out today, and they were getting dinner at a nice, obscenely expensive place downtown. And Betty was still at school, strolling aimlessly down the corridors. She'd done as much work as she could in the library; but in all honesty she was drained. The pop quiz this morning and the non-stop worry over what her mother would say had been whirling around her head, and there was nothing she wanted to do more than flop down into her thick mattress, burrow under her blankets, and stare at her reassuring kittens posters and wait for morning where  _the rest of her life would begin._

She found herself trailing along the empty corridors, admiring the darkness seeping in through all the glass windows. It was niche, to see school like this. Thrilling in that understated way and she immediately liked it more. Liked the idea of having school at night and sleeping in the day, of having lunch under the moon and walking home with the sunrise. But she knew that upon doing it everyday, or everynight, seeing the sun seeping in through the windows would be just as exhilarating. Back in her pink jumper, her cheerleading outfit tucked into her backpack, she trailed her fingers along the lockers, just revelling in the quiet. Eventually she reached the large wooden plaque mounted beside the doors to the auditorium. It was a list of prior valedictorians. Her eyes flickered down and found her mom instantly.  _Alice Mary Cooper._ She could picture her mom accepting her scroll, the smile on her face, looking like the perfect mix between Betty and Polly. 

Polly wasn't on track to be Valedictorian in her year but the pressure wasn't quite the same. Polly was smart, but it had become apparent very early on in their schooling that her sister wasn't as talented in academia as she was in music. She was aiming for a spot at Juliards and their mother had been so thrilled with the prospect that Polly didn't have to get straight A's in her report cards, so long as she attended all her music lessons. She was a savant at the violin and the cello, and the melodies she played on the piano at home filled the house with the sweetest, most heartbreaking music Betty had ever heard. The expectations hadn't been that high on her either, until the day that, quite by fluke, she'd received 100% on a history essay. Her mother had showered her with affection, sticking it up on the fridge immediately. 

The pressure had started then and never really let up. She'd pushed herself at first, determined to get that same proud look from her mother, and then harder and harder still. Until it became expected. Until she was straight-A-golden girl Betty Cooper. The cheerleader with a ponytail and smile for everybody. 

"You can be third, if you like," a voice comes, and Betty startled so hard that she actually jumped; her heart beating hard as she turned to see Jughead Jones. He was wearing a beanie, of an unusual shape, that looked quite well worn. He also donned a leather jacket and his grey satchel was over one shoulder, as he held out a tissue. She realised then that she was crying. She reached out for it, trying to summon her smile; unsure when she had started to weep. 

She dabbed at her eyes, and sniffled, folding the tissue neatly, as she used it to poke the soft corner at the edges of her eyelids so as not to smear her eyeshadow. "What?" She croaked, trying to inflect a friendly tone into her voice even though she was exhausted.

She was also utterly humiliated. She wondered what kind of freak she looked like. He shoved his hands into his pocket awkwardly; a conflicted frown on his face. He was staring rather furiously at the strap of her backpack. She almost wanted to check if there was something offending there. "I have an essay due in tomorrow; it'll count towards rankings. I could tank it, if you want." 

Her jaw dropped in shock. There were so many things racing through her head that she wasn't not sure what to focus on first. The idea of  _tanking_ an essay was so foreign to her, she's almost frightened for Jughead. Secondly; the fact that he would just because she's crying is simultaneously confusing and flattering. Or maybe completely embarrassing; what does she look like if a practical stranger thinks she needs this so she doesn't break down? It's  _just_ a class ranking. She freezes as soon as she thinks it, guilt rushing through her. She can't think things like that. Not when they're so important to her mother. "I...that's... _why?"_

He rubbed the back of his neck hard, eyes flickering to the lockers across the hall. She can see his eyes then, in the dim lighting of the hallway. They're aquamarine with flecks of emerald and shades of the evergreen she sees when she walks to school. They're beautiful. The thought comes to her; unbidden, and she wants to take a step back. He really is rather attractive. A strong jaw line, a delicate nose, and defined cheekbones. His frame is hidden beneath oversized clothing, but she thinks he might be more lean than scrawny. But she's not sure she'd mind either way. It's exciting, and shocking, to have thoughts like these. To be attracted to someone. Sure she's had crushes on celebrities; Harrison Ford and Tom Cruise have been some of her recent obsessions, but never really on anyone at school. School's always been about working hard. Sure she goes to prom; to plan it and put it on her CV. It almost makes her frown. Is that how high school should be? She's suddenly not so sure. Then she realises this is probably not the time to be having this epiphany. Jughead looks ready to speak. "I don't know." He says honestly, scowling a little; as if he wishes he did know. "You just...it's clearly really important to you, and I don't wanna be the reason you're..." he looks at her finally, meeting her eyes "...sad. It's lame, I know." 

Tears are threatening to spill over again, so she closes her eyes tightly and wills them away. She clenched her fists by her side and took a deep breath. "It's not important to me. It's important to my mom. I don't...I shouldn't...you deserve it, Jughead." 

He rocked on his heels, a conflicted look on his face. "I didn't even know you knew my name before today." 

That drew a small smile from her, and she half nodded. "I'm supposed to be leader of the meet and greet committee to introduce new students, I'm supposed to know everyone by name. Besides, we've been in the same year for a long time." 

"First time we're ever talking to each other, though," he pointed out, eyes focused on his shoes. "It's uh...good to finally meet you then, Betty." 

Her laugh was watery but genuine. It drew his eyes up to her face; where he examined it closely, as if checking she was alright. She tried to manage a wider smile to ease his nerves, but whatever she was aiming for clearly doesn't work, as he glowers harder. "It's nice to meet you too, Jughead. It's about time you beat me, anyway," she goes for teasing. 

He huffed a little then, amused sounding, and the right side of his mouth quirked up a little. "Only took me five years." He looked like he was struggling with something for a while, and she watched as he eventually manages to get the words out. "Can I..." he gestured to her. She has absolutely no idea what he's talking about, but she's a pretty easy going person (not really) and eager to please, so she nodded. He grabbed her wrists, and began prying her fingernails out of her palm. There was a light drop of blood sliding down the side of her hand and realises dully that she's done that. That there's actually quite a lot of stinging ebbing from the cuts. She lets him straighten her fingers, and he's prodding around the crescents; examining them, before digging into his pockets for more tissues. "You need to wash your hands. And get a stress ball." 

It's so nonjudgemental. Just matter-of-fact. She swallows bile. "I don't need a stress ball." Her smile is a perfect sunrise. "I'm fine." 

"And I'm Dopey the Dwarf in human form." He snarks without any heat. "I'll bring you a stress ball tomorrow. You should go to the bathroom and wash your hands, then you should go home, Betty." 

He says her name like no one else does, and she looks down at the bloodied tissue in her hands. She finds herself nodding. She'd always responded to direct orders. "Okay," she echoed. He's let go of her hands now, not looking at her anymore. He's stepping away, like he's about to leave, and he can't leave, not without knowing. "Don't tank your essay." She whispers earnestly. "Ace it. You deserve it, Jughead." 

He nods at her, a little awkwardly, and gestures to her hands again. "Bathroom." He reminds, and then he's off down the hallway. She watches the black leather of his jacket disappear, and then forces herself to the bathroom. The water is a cold relief, and she splashes some onto her face, trying to lessen the reddening of her eyes. By the time she's outside, it's nearly pitch black, and the cool night air rejuvenates her skin. It's quiet outside and she has no idea where Jughead has gone as she makes her way home. It occurs to her, as she's worrying over what her mother is going to say, that she had the opportunity to fix it all, and get him to tank. But she was never going to do it. It wasn't who she was, wasn't who she wanted to be. 

It makes her happy to know that at the very least, her morals are all her own, as she walks out of the darkness into the warm suffusive glow of streetlamp. 

 

 

"Alert: tall, pale and handsome at two o'clock and approaching," Veronica murmurs under her breath, as the four of them sit in the cafeteria. Archie's arm is slung comfortably over her shoulder, and Betty and Cheryl sit opposite them. The three of them turn to look, not at all subtly, to where Veronica was gesturing, and sure enough, there's Jughead Jones walking through the crowd towards them. He's got the plastic lunch tray in his hands, and he nods at Betty when they make eye contact. His mouth is set in a serious line and he sets his tray on the table with a clatter. Betty has the absurd thought that he's going to join them. 

Instead, he just reaches into his pocket and passes her a stress ball. She takes it. It's pink with hearts all over it and obviously brand new. She squishes it once in her palm, and the relief is palpable. It feels good. "Thank you for letting me borrow it." He says evenly, and she gets the hint. Her friends are all here. It strikes her how considerate he's being, and something fond beats fiercely in her chest. She doesn't know this guy, and the few times they've spoken she's seemed crazy, but here he is; unfailingly kind. 

"It's no problem, Jug," she says brightly, and ignores Cheryl and Veronica's stare of shock. "Are you gonna join us?" 

He barely manages to hide a grimace, and Betty laughs. He picks up his tray and she notes that it's loaded with sandwiches. "No thanks,  _Betts._ See you in English," and he's leaving. He goes to sit beside Dilton Doiley and Ethel at a practically empty table, and they greet him with wide smiles. He doesn't return them, but he does nod at them with enough familiarity that they can fall into what looks like easy conversation. When Betty draws her eyes back to her own table, she finds two women staring at her and Archie stealing crisps from Veronica's packet. 

"Since when are you friends with Jughead?" Veronica asks, crossing her arms and Betty shoves the stress ball into her backpack. 

"He just wanted to borrow the stress ball." 

"I thought you'd never heard of him till yesterday." Cheryl pipes up, as she and Veronica have a silent conversation across the table. "Since he came third in student rankings. But now you're buddy-buddy? Jason tells me that Polly says you didn't get home till late last night. Were you and a mysterious loner perhaps getting busy under the deserted bleachers?"

"What?" Archie gasps, finally catching on, and he whips his head around the cafeteria. "Betty's got a boyfriend? Betty, why didn't you tell me? Who is he?" 

"Poor, deluded Archiekins," Cheryl sighs, twirling a long strand of hair between her fingers boredly. "Betty's got a  _secret_ boyfriend in Jughead Jones." 

"Jughead?" Archie grins, nodding approvingly. "That's cool, Betty. He's a good guy." 

Betty wonders how Archie even knows him. Jughead seems like the type of person who keeps to himself. Like Cheryl said; someone who stays under the radar. Cheryl seems to read her mind, and leans across the table towards the freckled jock. "How do you know our very own Truman Capote, Archie?" 

"Our dad's work together," he says easily, shrugging as he shoves fries into his mouth. "I go round to his a lot, he's really cool. We play video games together like every other weekend." 

The girls are all staring at him with varying degrees of shock. Cheryl in partial horror. "Archie!" Veronica scolds, "you never mentioned you were friends with Jughead." 

"You never asked. I'm also friends with Moose, Reggie-"

"I get it," she cuts him off with an exaggerated eye roll and returns to her spring rolls. 

Betty picks at her chicken and rice and wonders about it all. Jughead does seem really nice, and she finds him incredibly attractive, and he's smart. Maybe there's something there worth pursuing? Her mother had handled her coming fourth with relative grace; distracted by the thought that Betty might finally get into a relationship. She'd also been distracted by the fact that Jason and Polly had become serious, and was investing most of her energy into ensuring that things for them went as smoothly as possible. All things considered, she'd got off fairly easy. Just a few:  _you need to better apply yourself_ and  _this wouldn't have happened if you spent less time being a cheerleader and more time studying._ They were easy enough to brush off, and as she chewed thoughtfully on the protein, she wondered what Jughead might be like as a boyfriend. 

Good, her mind supplied eventually. He'd be good. 

 

Now that she had a full fledged crush, it was striking to see Jughead in her classes. They did share a large number together, and she noted with some envy that he never seemed to write anything down. But he always seemed to have an answer. He chimed up whenever questions weren't being asked, and in a few classes, even had the audacity to put his feet up on the desk. He'd obviously had all the teachers gauged correctly, and he never pushed their limits. It was amazing to listen to him, Betty thought, resting her chin in her hands and just staring as he vehemently described what a  _monster_ Churchill had been. 

He was so handsome when he talked; the defiance alight in his green eyes, the adamancy of his chiselled jaw; his expressioned hand movements; flourishing in the air. And what he said was actually interesting; insightful in a way that didn't sound like the regurgitated nonsense of their classmates. Betty and the teachers always seemed to listen more attentively to what the blue haired boy said, offering up their own, not strictly syllabus-related responses. 

After he'd finished his Churchill rant, he slumped back into his seat, and turned his head slightly, eyes locking on Betty. 

Who had been staring at him for the entire lesson. 

She hurriedly tore her gaze away, but was pretty sure she was too late. She could feel his frown on her, and did her best to ignore it; her cheeks burning with humiliation. Ah, the joys of crushing, she wondered to herself. Remembering all the times Polly had lamented to her what it felt like to have a crush; it was definitely crushing her. All the feelings and emotions that Polly had so graphically described were happening now. She was so wrapped up in it all, that by the time she registered that the bell had rung; half the class had filed out. Jughead hadn't though, and he was standing by her desk, staring down at her. 

He opened his palm, and she stared at it, wondering if he wanted a low-five. It took a second for her to realise he wanted her to do the same, ands he opened her palms for him. The crescents were fully closed and fading. He nodded in approval. "We could walk to English together?" 

She nodded jerkily, clambering to her feet and grabbing her stuff haphazardly. "Sure! That'd be great! We'll be getting out pop quizzes back." 

He arched an eyebrow at her, glancing at her from the side as they walked to the door. He waved absentmindedly to the teacher, who beamed at the pair of them, before they joined the herds of other students in the hall. All making their way to their own hours of education. "Wow. You sound genuinely excited. I take it you found it easy?" 

"I was prepared." She answered with a shrug, a smile playing on her lips. "What about you?" 

"I was not prepared. I think I did alright. There was a question I liked,"

She immediately leapt at the fishing line. It was so rare to talk to someone who actually liked questions in an exam. Sure, she hoped one day they could move beyond talking about academia- which was a safe topic for what she hoped would be their budding romance- but for now, she was excited to talk about it. "Which one?" She asked eagerly, and he huffed one of his half-amused sighs at her. His mouth doing the same small up-tick. 

"The Miranda question. About passivity." He dragged a hand through his hair, and it flopped around his fingers. "She's such a fucking hero I hate questions that imply passivity." 

Betty blinked in surprise, before scoffing. "Um, what? No. She's the most passive character-"

"Why?" Jughead demanded, in the same tone he used to lecture the class on something he was incredibly passionate about. The amount she lusted after that tone distracted her momentarily, and she listened to him. "Because she fell in love? I am so sick of people using love as some weakness. If that's the case then Ferdinand's weak too. He fell in love. Prospero loves his daughter more than anything- he's giving up magic to go back with her. He says that she was his salvation, the only thing that gave him hope! She's mistaken for a freakin' goddess by the King, and she's passive? Write me a new one." 

"But she just does exactly what her father's tells her to-"

"When does Prospero tell her to fall in love?" Jughead challenges, and Betty pauses, combing over the play in her head. She draws a blank. "Exactly. You're just quoting critiques, Betty. If you want to have your own views you have to form some opinions from the text before you move onto criticisms." 

"Wow." She says, stunned. He glances at her curiously again; frowning..

"What?" They stop outside the english classroom. The class before them is still inside; the teacher obviously distracted. 

She shrugs, crossing her arms in a move she knows she gets from her mom. "Nothing. I'm just amazed you're giving me advice on how to write essays. English is a subjective subject, Jughead. There's no right or wrong." 

He glared down at her. "You're one of those people who sees Propsero as a tyrant, aren't you?" 

She gritted her teeth. "Yes. He subjugated Caliban-"

"He taught him how to read! And then he tried to rape his daughter-"

"He enforced language, and stole the island!" 

Jughead scoffed, rolling his eyes with such confidence that Betty could feel a rush of embarrassment. 

"So that's your argument?" She sneared, rolling her own eyes. "A scoff and an eye roll? No wonder you do so  _brilliantly_ in school." 

He threw her a dirty look, and leaned against the wall beside the door. His hands were in his pockets, but she could see his arms twitching; aching to fly through the air as he explained. instead, he took a breath and began in a surprisingly even voice. "Prospero came to the island, found Caliban; loved him. Caliban loved him too, showed him the treasures of the island, everything was great. Then Propsero and Miranda spend all their time trying to teach Caliban how to speak english, and he tries to rape Miranda.  _Then_ Prospero enslaves him, and still at the end he forgives him. He's literally the son of the devil and he's granted forgiveness. He tries to entice Stefano to rape Miranda, and he's still forgiven." One hand escaped his pocket and raked through his hair again. "I'm not saying that's the analysis of the play. But it's one view. And if you can see that, you're going to do much better. I'm not giving you advice, I'm just..." he slumped further into the wall, "showing you that it's okay to make sound points without the use of a book." Daringly, he brought one of his knuckles to her forehead and knocked against it gently. "There's a brilliant brain up in that pretty head, Betty, it's okay to use it every once in a while." 

Her heart was beating hard in her chest, and though she was fairly sure not everything he'd said had been a compliment, she couldn't really get over the rush of the fact that he thought she was smart and pretty. His lips looked pretty incredible, and she so badly wanted to go up onto her tiptoes and press her own against him. "I...yeah."

His mouth did that small half-tick, and he nudged her as the previous class started filing out and then walked into the classroom. "Or not. You've beaten me pretty much every year. Don't pay any attention to the man behind the curtain." 

She laughed loudly, and was pleasantly surprised when he dropped into the seat next to her. She was sitting furthest to the window, and he collapsed easily to her right. Miss Tracy shot them both smiles, and Betty returned hers eagerly, as Jughead saluted and swung his legs over the desk. He shrugged when Betty shot him a look. "Live a little." He said instead, insistence in his voice, as he gestured to the desk. 

The thought was absolutely ridiculous, and yet she was still a little tempted to try. As she looked down at her own legs, which were tucked neatly under the table at ninety degrees to her body- as that was what encouraged the best handwriting, were bare in her purple skirt. "Can't." She said, regret tinging her tone, "skirt." 

Jughead hummed thoughtfully, before shuffling a little in his seat, and patting the spare wood beside his thigh. "Turn your chair; back to the window, legs up. Miss Tracy loves you, she's hardly gonna say anything." 

The rest of the class were beginning to file in now, shuffling towards their seats with a sense of excited apprehension that meant they all knew they'd be getting their marks back. She quietly turned her chair, so she was now sitting beside her desk, and lifted her legs onto Jughead's seat. It was...comfortable. Really comfortable. And it made her feel daring. Her left elbow rested against the desk and her right hand was free to place her notebook onto her lap as she scrawled the date. Jughead winked approvingly at her, leaning back in his seat. Betty had tried to be careful that the bottom of her shoes didn't touch his jeans, but he apparently didn't care, for he let his legs press against her soles without thought. She darted a cautious look to Miss Tracy, but she didn't seem to care at all, as she began handing out the papers. As Betty smoothed her fingers across her so far blank page, there was a delicate voice clearing their throat.

She turned, and smiled nervously at Veronica who was seated directly behind her. The dark haired girl arched an eyebrow and gave a very pointed look to Jughead, who was doodling on the paper that was balancing on his knees. Betty supposed they did rather look a picture. A perfect balance of familiarity. She shrugged, giving Veronica a warning glare, as Miss Tracy began handing out the tests. She gave Betty an approving look as she set the paper down in front of her. "Lovely job, Betty. You've clearly understood the source material," 

Betty smiled widely, looking down to see the bright 95 written on her paper and the littering of ticks down the page. She turned to look at Veronica who was rolling her eyes but nodding at her encouragingly. The blonde watched as Jughead accepted his paper. 

"Well done, Jughead. Nearing the side of illegible, though. It's a marathon, not a sprint." 

"Don't use metaphors like that, Miss T. I'll start treating this class like gym and you'll never see me anymore." 

Miss Tracy rolled her eyes, and continued down the row. 

He met Betty's eyes with a wicked glint, and dropped his paper down onto her legs. She reached over to pick it up and gaped. 98. His handwriting did look more like chicken scrawl than words, but from what she could see, what he was saying was pretty exceptional. "Those pesky neocolonialist critiques cost you those marks, Betts," he teased, as she perused his answers. She kicked at his hip with her shoe and he snorted. 

Betty ignored Veronica's little sound of curiosity. 

The lesson was...one of the best she'd ever had. Jughead and her engaged in glorious debate that most of the class tuned out, and she watched as he doodled on his paper; not a single word being written down. She could lean over to see Veronica, and giggled as she reached over to tug on the paper as her friend was writing, so the words smudged a little. She'd had no idea lessons could be fun in a way that wasn't necessarily learning. She was normally so tightlipped, but the informality of the seating, the fact that she could see Veronica making her birthday list and Jughead sketching what looked like a motorbike; relaxed her immensely. She watched as Jughead chewed on the edge of his pen, and a smudge of ink smeared around his lips. 

"You might have a math test soon," she whispered; voice a touch too quiet but she's happy with herself for speaking at all. 

He heard her regardless, and shot her a pleasantly surprised look; pen hanging out of the corner of his mouth and blue on his lips. "I owe you one," he murmured, fondness evident in his voice. 

She flushed hotly. He didn't really owe her one, not after offering to come fourth, and the stress ball, and checking on her hands- but the promise made her fluster all the same. At the very least it meant that they'd be seeing a lot more of each other. "You can have lunch with us today?" She pressed. The lesson was drawing to a close now, as most people were finishing up the exercise and Miss Tracy was getting her things together. The noise in the classroom began increasing; the quiet semblance of the lesson ending. 

She regretted asking as soon as she had. A look of conflict passed over his face, and he winced; a guilty look on his face. "I uh..."

"Don't worry." She interrupted quickly. She pulled her legs off his chair as the bell rang, and shook her head; ponytail bobbing. "I shouldn't have-"

"I'd have lunch with just you, sometime." He said in a rush, getting up and shoving his stuff into his bag. Betty gasped at the way he did it; he held his satchel at the end of his desk and with one sweeping movement of his arm slid the entire contents of his desk into it. The papers got inevitably crushed and instead of straightening them, he crammed them in further, before shutting it. He swung it over his head, and kept his eyes on the now empty desk. 

Her heart was doing the soaring flippy thing that Polly so often talked about, and she looked down at her hands; smiling softly. "Yeah, sure," she whispered. "That'd be nice." 

"Cool." 

"Cool." 

Their eyes met, and he gave her a small, tender gin. "See ya, Betts." He gave her a two finger salute, calling goodbye to Miss Tracy and heading out the door. 

"Oh, you have so much to spill, B," Veronica jarred her out of her reverie, grabbing her arm and hauling her out. "No secret boyfriend my ass." 

 

On Friday class rankings officially came out, and the top ten students were waiting for the official forms at the reception. 

Betty was squeezing her stressball rather viciously in her hand, when Jughead landed in the seat beside her. She looked up; smiling widely, and laughing when she saw him grin right back at her. Carefree and friendly, as he swung his legs over onto her lap. "You're in a good mood," she greeted, tucking the ball into her bag and playing with the laces of his shoes. He never laced them right, so she set about undoing them so she could redo them properly. 

"It's a good day," he grinned, reaching over to bop her nose. "My sister's moved back home." 

Betty arched an eyebrow, wanting to ask but not wanting to ruin his good mood. He could sense it anyway, and offered up the explanation.

"My mom bailed on us a few months ago. Took my little sister Jellybean. My mom's not...she's not well. Not that my dad's a stand up citizen or anything, but he's a good guy. Social services finally brought her back last night. She's six, and the most important thing in my life. You'd like her." 

It was the most she'd ever heard him say about himself. It took her aback a little, and only served to make him immeasurably more attractive to her. He looked so carefree, so much more relaxed than she'd ever seen. "If she's anything like you, I'll love her." Betty said warmly, only to freeze at the look of surprise on Jughead's face. He was staring at her with something inscrutable on his face, and it was only after a while that she noticed the faintest trace of pink on his lower jaw. She smiled, and chose not to retract it out of nerves. She laced up his other shoe neatly, and as soon as she was done he pulled his legs out of her lap and crossed them onto his seat, leaning towards her. 

"Betty, I-"

"Thank you all for coming," Principal Weatherbee greeted, walking into the reception with the forms in tow. "You should all be extremely proud of yourselves." He continued on, but Betty wasn't listening; her eyes were still on Jughead, though his attention had been snapped away. She wondered what he had been going to say, wondered when he felt comfortable enough with her to talk about his family. She was only shaken from her gazing when the certificate was handed to her, and she thanked Weatherbee with the best Cooper smile she could summon. The other people in the room were varied; Midge was there with Stella, and one of the guys she recognised from Archie's group of jocks. Dilton and Ethel were there too, on the other side of the room, and Betty wondered why Jughead had chosen to sit with her and not them. He had lunch with them everyday; something he clearly wasn't that comfortable doing with just anybody. 

"C'mon, Betts. They're serving hotdogs in the cafeteria." 

She realised with a particularly girlish glee that he was holding her bag for her; the straps slung over one of his arms, as he tipped his head towards the door. She stood up, smoothing down her light blue dress to follow him. She noticed then, as they were standing up, that they matched. Her blue dress was perfected with a dark blue belt and dark blue tennis shoes, and Jughead was in jeans, a blue 's' tee and a darker blue plaid shirt over the top. She pressed her lips together in a satisfied smile, and followed him towards the door. 

"Hey, Jug!" Ethel waved, from where she and Dilton were sitting together; comparing certificates. Her eyes drifted over to Betty, and she waved again. "And Betty." 

There was something in her tone that Betty couldn't quite place, and she stood just behind Jughead's shoulder as he nodded at them. "Hey, Eth. Love the hair." 

She touched her ginger curls with glee, and her face turned a dark red. "Thanks! I uh- new technique, I'm trying. Are you gonna join us for lunch?" 

Dilton looked up from his certificate then, nodding. "We're gonna see if we can come up with an unofficial mark scheme for Harris' test of doom. You in?" 

"Uh...pass, on this one guys," he said, pulling the door open. "I'll look over it for you though. Fix your numerous mistakes." 

Dilton snorted, removing his glasses to polish the edge of one lens. "That'd be the day. Alright, catch you later." 

"Bye, Jughead!"

As they exited into the hallway, Betty wondered whether Jughead had any idea that Ethel had a crush on him. Probably not, what with the ease he'd given her that compliment. She wasn't sure how she'd react if he complimented her like that- "I thought you could only pull of pink, but here you are, proving me wrong." 

She could actually feel the heat emanating from her cheeks like a furnace. "Thanks. We uh...we match, as well." She gestured between the two of them, and watched as he glanced down. The smile on his face was just as endearing at the bright grin she'd received this morning. It lit up his face, and made him look much more friendly than the aloofness that seemed to follow him around like a grey cloud. He looked approachable like this. And handsome. 

"You're ruining my loner image, Betty," he snorted as they headed into the cafeteria. Betty laughed, nudging him, and spotting her friends at the table. Veronica and Archie had their backs to her, but Cheryl was watching her like a hawk. 

"I'll head to the table, you'll come over as soon as you get your lunch?" She verified, and he nodded; a slightly more uncomfortable look on his face. 

"Maybe pre-warn your friends about me, I can come across a bit..." 

"You'll be fine!" She laughed, tiptoeing to press a kiss onto his cheek. It stunned him into silence, and she bopped his nose in retaliation for earlier and bounded over to her friends. She waved her certificate and Archie applauded her proudly. "Hey guys," she greeted, taking her seat beside Cheryl and opposite Veronica, "Juggie's gonna join us for lunch, today." 

" _Juggie?"_ Veronica repeated, at the same time Archie exclaimed:

"That's awesome!" 

"I know you're adamant on saying you're not dating him, Betty," Cheryl began, taking a delicate bite out of her chicken baguette. "But you definitely want to, that much is obvious." Betty watched as Cheryl turned to cast her eyes over the line, where Jughead was sweet-talking the dinner lady for more hotdogs, and half shrugged. "He's attractive, if you're into that sort of thing. Je approve. And you have to have planned your outfits today. I can just picture you," her voice took on a sweet tone; "leaning against your kitchen counter, twirling the extension in your fingers as you gush into the landline about which plaid shirt will best bring out his eyes." 

Veronica smirked in amusement. "Obviously. That's what Archie and I do every night." She gestured to two of them and Betty laughed loudly. They were clashing horribly with Veronica's red dress and Archie's orange sweater. Betty looked up as Jughead approached the table. He placed his tray, after some hesitation, down beside Cheryl. Betty regretted not getting them to shuffle so she could be sat beside him, but watched as he came back around the table and handed her her backpack. He'd been carrying it this whole time, and Betty took it with a quiet, but grateful thank you, and fished for her lunch within; studiously ignoring Veronica's knowing look. 

He sat down, picking up a hotdog and taking an obscenely large bite. 

"Jug, this is Cheryl and Veronica," Betty said, by way of introduction, and he nodded at them, but didn't offer any words back. 

"So Jughead," Veronica began, and Betty groaned internally, "you and Betty have become fast friends. Isn't that fun?" 

"I guess." 

"You've been spending a lot of time together." Veronica tried again, hoping for something more juicy. Jughead didn't reply to the remark though, instead covering one of his hotdogs so liberally with sauce that it was more ketchup than bun. The raven-haired girl sighed, frowning, and Cheryl took the baton. 

"So, are you single?" 

Betty choked on her sandwich, and took the water that Veronica graciously offered her. 

"Uh...yeah? Why?" He sounded half petrified, and Cheryl laughed. 

"Not for me, of course. Just asking for a friend. A blonde haired, blue eyed friend-"

"Cheryl." Betty hissed warningly, and the red-head lifted her hands in surrender. Her eyes wide with mock innocence. 

"What ever is the matter, cousin dearest? I'm just asking our new friend Jughead here a question." 

"Oh, really? When did you become Poirot?" Betty shot back. 

Jughead snorted, mouth curving into that familiar uptick as he tore off a piece of his hotdog. 

Veronica stared at him. "You're...smiling." 

"Did our very own Holden Cawfield just smile?" Cheryl questioned; amazed. 

Betty watched as his smile was immediately schooled into a neutral expression, and Archie; who had been watching the unfolding events with amusement, launched into an easy conversation. Jughead relaxed and they started talking about a video game, and Betty knew that they were old friends. Could tell from the body language. But as she really thought about it, she supposed Cheryl and Veronica were right. Jughead didn't smile often at all, she knew that, but most of his smiles seemed reserved for her. She hoped it meant what she thought it meant. She was sunshine personified, but seeing Jughead smile...it was as if the posters in her bedroom had come to life and taken human form. Motivating her, and having her back. 

 

"Wow, I didn't believe in myself before reading that magnet, but now I totally do." Came the lazy drawl she associated with Jughead, and Betty turned to see him leaning against her locker with a half-grin on his face. He'd been noticeably happier for the past week; a result of Jellybean returning home no doubt. Betty had yet to meet her, but if the ever-present peace in Jughead's shoulders was anything to go by; she was a delight. The rings under his eyes were from staying up and trying to tire her out, but his smiles had been much easier to draw out, and were more and more frequent in Betty's company. 

"You jest, but that magnets gotten me from some serious hardships." She teased, rolling her eyes as he took her books out of her arms. "Very chivalrous." 

"Obviously. What kind of man would I be if I let you carry your own books?" 

She laughed, as they headed towards English. "I don't know what kind of man, but you'd be an excellent boyfriend." 

He threw her a wink; "maybe you should ask me, then." 

She could feel her cheeks warm, as she tucked herself into his side as they edged around a group of younger students. "Be my boyfriend?" She watched as he grinned at her, unabashed and unashamed, completely unrepentant. Their flirting had been rising the past few days, and neither of them were worried that their feelings weren't reciprocated. 

"Why Betty, I thought you'd never ask." 

 

Betty wondered in English next month, whether love was meant to be this easy. 

Because it felt too easy. Sitting in English, her feet on Jughead's lap as he rubbed her ankles with his free hand and took reluctant notes with his other. It felt too easy; meeting him in the park on weekends and lazing in the sun with Jellybean. They'd been dating for a month, and her mother interrogated her everyday, but Betty didn't half mind. Jughead was waiting for her at her locker every morning, no matter what time she came in, with his plaid and his smile- reserved only for her- to ask her how her evening was. He took her for dates at the local diner, and they tried a new milkshake flavour every week. They proofread each other's essays, and bemoaned surprise math tests; equally zealous in their dislike.

It was easy; the slide of his lips against hers, and how his tongue felt against her teeth. The burn she got in her core as his hands snaked up her pink sweater was so easy it was nearly scary.

But alas, life could not revolve around holding hands with her boyfriend (boyfriend!) and the biannual exams rolled around. She fell into her familiar pattern of in-depth revision, and shut herself off from the world. Her posters were now covered with revision cards and nitrogen cycles for biology; there were practise questions she'd preprepared propped up by her toothbrush so that as she cleaned her teeth she could also test herself. In her lunchbox, she packed questions too, and in her coat pockets. Lunchtimes were now spent solely in the library; eating apples quietly so as not to get detected by Mr Smith.

So now, in her bedroom, she sat at her desk, one hand tangled in her hair, the other violently squeezing the stress ball as she read over her highlighted text book. When there was a knocking on her window. For a second she just listened the noise, wondering what on earth it could be, before she turned and saw Jughead and his crown beanie, poking over the edge of the sill. She got to her feet, scoffing in contented surprise as she lifted her window. He was framed by the night, and had clearly moved the ladder from the side of the garage. "Hey there, Juliet," he murmured, one long strand of dark hair curling into his forehead. "Wanted to make sure you weren't going all yellow wall paper on me."

"Not yet," she whispered, stepping back and watching as he clambered inside. He toed off his shoes and tucked them neatly in the corner; wiping any traces of mud he'd left on the white frame. Then he looked around her room and a broad smile, one of his rarer ones, spread across his face. 

"'A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step'?, 'never stop dreaming', wow Betty," he shook his head fondly, padding over to her bed and poking at the multitude of furry cushions. "This is a pessimists worsts dream." He hopped onto her bed after a moments deliberation, and stretched out against her pillows, beanie sliding off the top of his head. 

She grinned. "You're no pessimist, Jug. You're a realist." She admired him on her bed. He was dressed in mostly black, but instead of standing out, he seemed to blend into the cushions. He looked soft and cuddly; and she wanted nothing more than to snuggle up to him. But there was less than a week before their first exam, and she'd said no guests. "Juggie, as good as it is to see you-"

"I'm here in a professional capacity, no need to worry," he assured quickly, making grabby hands towards her desk. "Consider me your professionally trained monkey. I'll just ask you questions. Figured you were going stir crazy doing it yourself." 

Her heart panged fondly, and she nodded, reaching for her stack of cue cards. "That would be- yes. Amazing. Thank you." 

And as he was testing her, she realised how much she'd been craving the company. The impressed look he'd give her every time she got an answer word perfect was enough to assuage her nerves, and she relaxed. He was patient, and went over them again and again without complaint. Whereas her dad got bored or couldn't read her handwriting, and Polly had her own revision to do- her mother was far too strict about it, he was perfect. After they were done it was nearly midnight, and he asked her if she wanted some time to read over them before she went to bed. 

"No, I'm done," she said with a smile, and he nodded; yawning. 

"I might take a nap then. Join me?" He opened his arm, and she bounded over to him, setting her yellow cue cards neatly on the bedside table. He smelt of washing detergent and grass, as she snuggled into his chest. For a while, it was just the sound of their gentled breathing, his hand stroking her back and hers on his heartbeat. And then he spoke, voice gentle. "I thought in the interest of full disclosure, that I'd tell you that Ethel asked me out today." 

Betty stiffened, but didn't turn to look up at him. "Oh?" 

"Yeah, and I...well, I didn't wanna assume, but I...I said we were exclusive. Which we...are we? Aren't we?" 

She thought of the mixtape he'd made her tucked into her drawer. Thought of the way he looked with traces of her lipgloss smeared across his mouth. She looked up then, and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Definitely exclusive. Always were." 

"Good," he sighed, "now I don't have to track down and kill anyone you had a date with after me." 

"That's good. Gives you more revision time." She agreed around a yawn, eyes fluttering shut. She felt his fingers smooth her hair back, and then cup her cheek, and then she felt nothing but softness as she fell asleep. 

 

It turned out that love was that easy.

And the exams were too. 

**Author's Note:**

> comment/prompt/declaration of love I absorb it all and morph into a super bughead being! mwah mwah xx

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Podfic: Don't Sweat the Small Stuff](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15910182) by [HufflepuffBetty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HufflepuffBetty/pseuds/HufflepuffBetty)




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